The Flames of Change
by Scourgebringer
Summary: Aedan Alexston has spend his entire life in the land of Westfall, destined to become a farmer. Little did he know what destiny had in store him. Aedan's adventure from a simple peasant to a legend. Rated T for now, might be M later. First fanfic R&R
1. A Meager Existence

**Chapter 1: A Meager Existence**

Aedan Alexston lifted his head up towards the sky, thanking the Light for bringing the blessed clouds over the scorching sun. Returning his gaze to the fields ahead of him, Aedan slowly lay back against the plow, wiped the sweat from his golden-spiked hair, and watched as the breeze carried the small clouds of dust throughout the lands of Westfall.

"Its times like this I wish I would have told Jorab to go to the Nether and conscripted with the Alliance army, but no, it's always the same old speech," Aedan thought. "No son of mine will ever join those warmongering brutes! I think I'll try to bring it up to him again today," he pondered, "Hopefully he doesn't go off again like last time."

Aedan rose, dusting the dirt and dried up plants from his pants. He looked again up at the sun and saw that it was high past noon, with still half of the field to plow. Aedan sighed in exasperation as he smacked the mule and continued on with his work.

Truly this mundane life had grown tiresome for Aedan, this being this sixteenth year in this world and having never truly wandered much past Westfall except for the occasional trip up to Goldshire in Elwyn Forest. Five years have passed since the news arrived in the reconstructed Stormwind of the defeat of the Burning Legion atop Mt. Hyja, but at great cost. Rumors spread that the great Kingdom of Lordaeron had fallen along with its king due to the treachery of its beloved prince, Arthas Menethil. It was said that the only inhabitants that remained now were hordes of undead. Even though all this time had passed, the Alliance and the Horde still were at each others throats over territory in the lost continent of Kalimdor. Apparently, with the lose of the High Elves of Quel'Thalas, the Alliance had taken on new allies in the form of the so called "night elves." Rumors of these events only seemed to stir Aedan's discontentment with his meager existence on the Alexston farmstead, he couldn't help but yearn for something more.

Suddenly a voice rang out and echoed amongst the hills, a voice that made Aedan's shin shiver from the tone. "AEDAN," yelled Jorab, Aedan jumped and nearly lost his footing, "I told you to have this part of the field plowed and seeded by the time I returned from Sentinel Hill, care to explain why that isn't so?"

"I'm sorry father, I just got a little side tracked," Aedan stuttered, feeling crushed by Jorab's steely gaze.

"Well see to it that it's done before sundown, or you will be going hungry tonight, understand," Jorab questioned. Silence stood between them for a few seconds before Jorab's glare softened, "and if you manage to finish a little early, I have a few copper pieces for you to go and spend at Sentinel Hill, a few new traders arrived this morning. Also, I believe I saw Galin Saldean back in town while I was there."

Aedan's eyes immediately lit up and without another word, he turned back to the plow and began working as if the Scourge itself were behind him.

The sun had barely begun to touch the horizon when Aedan rode the mule and his plow back into the barn. Jorab awaited at the door with a stoic look upon his face, "Here are fifteen copper pieces, be sure you spend them wisely," Jorab said with a serious tone, "Be back at the farm by dark, you hear? Those Defias hooligans are started to come closer at night." "Yes sir," Aedan replied, almost pacing in anticipation. "Well what are you waiting for, off with you," Jorab said with a grunt, and with that, Aedan took off towards the barn and mounted the nearest colt.

The ride to Sentinel Hill didn't take long if you knew the hills as well as Aedan did. Many a days did he and Galin explore around them pretending that they were paladins fighting the savage orcs of the Horde. Unfortunately, only one of them ever grew up to fulfill that childhood fantasy, Galin left to be trained as a paladin just two years ago. The Saldeans were the only family in Westfall that farm was never besieged by the constant threat of bandits, gnolls, and other troubles that befell the locals. Because of this, they had the coin to send their son to be trained in Northshire Abbey. Even though Aedan had no true desire for a life of devotion in service to the Light, the thought of leaving Westfall to explore Azeroth made him more than a little jealous of Galin. The sight of the decaying tower of Sentinel Hill stirred Aedan from his thoughts and he rode past the stands where the merchants were just closing up shop for the night.

"Dammit," Aedan muttered as he saw the various trinkets and novelties from Stormwind being stowed away in crates. "Perhaps I can still see if Galin remains in town," Aedan hoped turning this mount towards the tower.

"Greeting Aedan," said Gryan Stoutmantle, the leader of the People's Militia, a group of volunteers dedicated to protecting the welfare and safety of Westfall's people, "I am surprised to see Jorab decided to let you out so late, what can I do for you?"

"I am sorry to disturb you Gryan, but have you seen Galin around? Jorab told me he was back in town," Aedan asked. "

"Why yes I have, I believe he and his master were visiting the inn to see if there was vacancy," Gryan replied, "though why there is any doubt of that escapes me. Westfall has lacked many visitors since the Defias activity increased. But don't let my troubles keep you. Go see your friend."

"Thank you," Aedan yelled back as he ran down the hill towards the inn. The doors of the inn swing open as Aedan barged in, observing the very few patrons sitting and drinking amongst the tables. Being careful to avoid the group of men wearing red bandannas, Aedan crossed the room towards the two men at the far side enthralled in conversation. As he approached, the young man with brown hair turned his head and smiled.

"Aedan," Galin exclaimed as he stood to embrace his friend, "How have the wheat fields been treating you?" Turning towards the older-bearded man, encased in heavy armor, "Master Ulric, this is Aedan, my oldest friend," Galin said.

"Well now," said that man called Ulric, "it is always nice to meet an acquaintance of my pupil. I am Sir Ulric, young Aedan, a paladin of the Knights of the Silver Hand."

"I am honored to meet you Sir Ulric," Aedan replied, bowing lowly. "Now what are two stout paladins such as yourselves doing in Westfall," Aedan asked, "If you don't mind me asking," he quickly added.

"Not at all my boy," Ulric replied as he invited Aedan to sit down with them. "With Stormwind's armies being spread rather thin of late, Highlord Bolivar Fordragon requested that I come as a personal favor to him to evaluate the concerns that Westfall has reported as of late. Personally, I can see from the condition of this very settlement that Westfall is in dire need of help, but some of the nobles, like that Prestor woman, seem to believe the reports to be grossly exaggerated."

"Well you couldn't be more right in that regard, milord," Aedan replied, "Westfall surely does have its fair share of troubles, but its not much different than when Westfall had the Galin and I running amuck.."

Galin playfully punched Aedan's arm exclaiming, "What are you trying to do, ruin my reputation in front of my master?"

Ulric roared in laughter and stood from the table, "Well I will leave the two of you to catch up. Galin, be sure to get some rest, we leave for Stormwind tomorrow after we speak with Gryan Stoutmantle," Ulric said.

"Yes master, but will we be able to stop by my families' farmstead on the way to Elwyn," Galin asked.

"Of course we will have time for a short visit, but afterwards we really must be on our ways," Ulric replied. "It was a pleasure to meet you Aedan, see to it that you don't head home too late, if the reports are true, Westfall is truly quite the danger at night."

"Well he seems like a nice enough fellow," Aedan said as Ulric ascended the stairs, "So you have to tell me Galin, what it is like being a holy warrior of the light."

"Not quite as glamorous as one might expect, but we do good work. Ulric might seem to be a kind man, but he is quite the slave driver when it comes to training," Galin replied, "I remember once when I slept through prayer service in the abbey, Ulric stormed into my room and made me run around the Abbey one-hundred times. I am sure as hell never doing that again." So what about you, how's that old goat Jorab doing," Galin asked.

"It been fine since you left, the season have come and gone, Jorab is still as hot-tempered as ever, but by the Light, I have grown tired of this place," Aedan replied with a deep sigh in his voice.

"Well we all can't be holy warriors Aedan, perhaps your destiny lies here in Westfall," Galin said.

"Perhaps your right, who knows, maybe my destiny will turn out much more differently than everyone expects," Aedan replied with a thoughtful look on his face.

It was long past nightfall when Galin and Aedan said their good-byes and parted ways. The moon had risen past the horizon and was in the midst of the sky. "Shit, shit shit," Aedan cursed as he round back to the farmstead with all possible speed, "That's it, I'm done! Jorab is going to skin me alive." By the time he arrived back at the barn, the moon was already high in the sky.

Jorab sat at his humble house, dinner left on the table, awaiting the return of his adopted son. He would never forget the day that Aedan came into his life, that fateful day on his way back from Goldshire.

_Jorab Alexston rode along the road, finally approaching the bridge that connected Elwynn Forest and Westfall. As he crossed over, Jorab noticed a cloaked person walking slowly across the road. As his wagon came close to the figure, the person collapsed. Jumping from his wagon, Jorab ran to the fallen being and pulled back the hood to reveal the face of a beautiful blonde haired woman._

"_Please," she said, her voice hoarse, "Help me."_

_Jorab, without a second thought, carried the woman to his wagon and quickly rode to Sentinel Hill._

"_What's wrong with her, healer," Jorab and Gryan asked as they watched the woman stir in pain._

"_It seems this woman is with child, she must have gone into labor hours ago. It is a miracle she was walking at all," the healer replied._

"_Will she live," Jorab asked concern evident in his voice._

"_It is hard to say. She has lost a lot of blood; I can't say for sure if she or her baby will survive the night," The healer answered, "All we can do is pray to the light."_

_Hours passed and the woman's cries of pain rang throughout the inn. Jorab was barely awake when the healer emerged from the room._

"_The baby has made it, but I am afraid there is nothing more I can do for the mother. She is dying," the healer said, a sad expression upon his face, "She has asked to see you."_

_Jorab nodded and entered the room, stopping when he saw the pale face of the woman he had found alongside the road._

"_Thank you," she said, "You have already done so much for me, so I am sorry if I must ask but one more thing."_

_Jorab nodded for her to continue._

"_It is of the utmost importance that this child life, this boy, my boy, may one day decided the fate of his father's kingdom," the woman said, tears gathering in her eyes, "He looks so much like his father, I only wish he could have seen him."_

"_Please Jorab," she pleaded, "Watch over my boy, my Aedan; see to it that he grows up strong."_

_Shocked, but unable to deny her, Jorab nodded his head. With her final act, the woman placed a locket from around her neck onto the baby and passed him into Jorab's hands. With a smile upon her face, the mysterious woman passed into the sweet embrace of death._

Jorab looked down at the locket in his hands, thinking back to that day. Aedan knew that Jorab was not his real father, but Jorab knew that he loved him as one, just as he loved Aedan as his own. Jorab was stirred from his memories and he heard the stable doors close and the footsteps of his son approach the door.

Aedan opened the door, almost afraid to look inside. He saw his father sitting at the table. "I am sorry I'm late father," Aedan said, awaiting the explosion, "I simply lost track of time talking to Galin."

"Aedan….its fine. Get some dinner and head off to sleep. We have work to do tomorrow," Jorab said, his eyes never leaving the locket he grasped firmly in his hand.

Shocked at his lack of anger, Aedan silently sat did as he was told. After finishing his small dinner of boar meat and cheese, he went to his room and fell upon his bed. At last, Aedan drifted into the sweet realm of dreams.


	2. A New Day

**Chapter 2: A New Day**

The light stirred Aedan from his sleep that morning as the sun barely crept up to his window. Still feeling the exhaustion from the late night with Galin, he forced himself up from his bed to begin the day's chores. As he walked towards the stairs, Aedan noticed an unusual sight, Jorab's door was still closed, usually by this time, he was already out feeding the horses. Creeping past the door and down the stairs, Aedan fixed himself a paltry breakfast of Stormwind brie and milk.

"Well since Jorab has decided to take a late day," Aedan thought, "Perhaps I can get an early start and be able to head back over to Sentinel Hill before Sir Ulric and Galin leave."

With that new surge of enthusiasm, Aedan began his daily routine, not knowing of the eyes that were watching him from the windows of his house.

Jorab watched as his son wandered about around the yard, performing the tasks that he had drilled into Aedan's head over the last sixteen years. He knew of his son's desires to venture out into the world, but could not bare to let him do something rash like join the Alliance army. Jorab walked over to a chest locked at the foot of his bed and opened it to view his battered armor from his own days as a member of the military.

"Still has some blood on it from the day of the sacking," Jorab thought grimly as his minded drifted back to that day.

"_Lieutenant Alexston," yelled the Major as he shook a much younger Jorab from his day-dreams, "Stand at attention!"_

"_Yes sir," Jorab stammered out as the larger man approached him._

"_You have been honored enough to serve in the Stormwind Keep," the Major sternly scolded, "Show a little respect for the position would you please. I need you to go on patrol around the back of the keep, so get to it soldier."_

"_Yes Major," Jorab said and he hurriedly rushed down the hall._

_This year marked Jorab's fifth year of service in the Stormwind Guard. He had joined up right when he turned sixteen, much to his parents chagrin since only his younger brother was left to help tend the farmstead. He was awarded the post of Royal Guardsmen after his heroic service in the Redridge Mountains fending off a gnoll attack on the local town._

"_Heroic, eh," Jorab thought as he patrolled the outer wall of the keep, "I guess luck is the better virtue, I was just the only one in the squad to survive the attack."_

_Jorab looked up at the mountain that served as the border between the Searing Gorge and Stormwind, pondering his undeserved promotion until he noticed a few figures at the top of the nearest cliffside._

"_What in the Light's name is that," Jorab thought as he withdrew his eye-glass from his belt. "Are those….orcs?" he thought as realization dawned upon him. King Llane Wyrnn was still in fact in negotiations with these strange green-skinned men with tusks for teeth that rumor said emerged from another world, in fact, King Llane has a half-breed orc named Garona was with the king now. Just as Jorab began to sprint back towards the throne room of the keep, a ear-piercing scream rang out throughout the castle._

"_King Llane is slain, the Horde is upon us," someone yelled as panic ensued. Jorab rushed into the throne room as the other guards attempted to make sense of the situation. _

_Looking back at the cliffside, Jorab saw some of the orcs lowering themselves down into the keep and the fire emerging over by the Valley of the Heroes. _

"_Protect Prince Varian," the Major yelled, just as the orcs poured into the throne room, "Alexston, the prince is down by Old Town, get him to the canals, we have prepared for this possibility. There are ships there which will take him to Lordaeron"_

_Not wasting time questioning, Jorab took off down the main hall of the keep. Looking back into the throne room, Jorab watched as the orcs overtook his commander and the rest of the royal guards. Running straight into the streets of Stormwind, Jorab could only look on in horror as the people run in terror and the city burned. Taking the street into Old Town, Jorab saw a small group of guards surrounding the prince, escorting the prince back towards the keep._

"_Hold there," Jorab said, all doubt in his mind resolved, "We are to take the prince to the canals at the far end of the city, he is to be evacuated to Lordaeron along with the rest of the civilians."_

_A look of both confusion of fear was apparent on young Varian's face. "But what about my father," the prince asked, "we need to find him as well."_

"_I am sorry my prince," Jorab morbidly said, "the keep has been overrun by the orcs. You're father has fallen."_

_Varian opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out. Tears silently ran down his face as the fear on his face was replaced by incredible sadness and then rage. " I will not abandon Stormwind," Varian exclaimed, his voice full of misery, "We will stand and kill ever last one of these…..animals."_

"_There will be a time for that my prince, but Stormwind is overrun I fear," Jorab reasoned, "Our only option is to save as many of the people as we can."_

_Varian's expression softened at the mention of his subjects. "Very well, sir knight," Varian said quietly, "Lead on."_

_The streets to the canals was thankfully not totally overrun by the Horde yet, the few stragglers they found were quickly dispatched by Jorab and the rest of the city guards. Upon reaching the make-shift harbor at the end of the canals, Jorab led the prince onto one of the small ships leaving the city. Thankfully, most of the people who had not been in the market district were evacuated._

"_Well this is where we part ways my prince," Jorab said._

"_But as you said, sir knight, the city is overrun," Varian said, "You will die if you stay here."_

_Jorab looked away from the prince, thinking about his commanders and comrades who in all likelihood lay slain in the throne room and the sacrifice they made._

"_I am sorry, my prince, my place is here with my comrades," Jorab replied, "Be safe and one day reclaim our city from these brutes."_

"_I will, sir knight, your sacrifice will never be forgotten," Varian replied, tears of sadness for both is father and for the brave men who have died in this atrocity, "May I ask for your name, sir knight?"_

"_I am Jorab Alexston, my prince," Jorab replied as the Varian sailed out of the city. Looking back, orcs began to pile into the evacuation area.  
>"I guess this is my last stand," Jorab contemplated as he and the rest of the guards prepared, "I will do them all proud."<em>

Jorab only survived the day because luckily they were located close to the stockade, the cities' prison and had managed to barricade themselves into a narrow passage, bottlenecking all possible assaults Jorab grimaced as he thought of that harrowing experience. For two days, with nearly no rest, he and ten other guards held off the orc attacks. Luckily, at the end of the second day, Jorab and the two surviving guards managed to find a passage leading into the sewers of the city, sparing them a gruesome death at the hands of the demonic Horde.

The Second War had taken its toll on Jorab, that was for certain. Upon surviving the sacking of Stormwind, Jorab returned to Westfall, hoping that the Horde had not yet set its eyes upon the farming land. Unfortunately, it seems that was too much for hope for. Jorab returned to the farmstead to find it ransacked and his entire family slaughtered. He can still remember his screams upon discovering what remained of their unrecognizable bodies. Gryan Stoutmantle and the few other resistance fighters found him in his house, cradling the mutilated body of his brother a few days later. Jorab joined the resistance, his days as a guard and as a farmer over, back then, his only goal in life was the unconditional slaughter of every orc they found.

By the end of the Second War, Jorab was infamous as a warrior across Westfall. With the retaking of Stormwind, he found himself questioning his very humanity with the enemy he had obsessed over for so long finally defeated. With no words said to Gryan or the rest of the former Westfall resistance, Jorab hung up his battered blade and rebuilt his farmstead, trying to forget all of the vial deeds that both he and the Horde had committed.

Jorab knew that eventually Aedan would leave, there was no stopping the inevitability of it. He was not destined to be a farmer, Jorab knew of the boy's strength.

"I suppose it is time to stop coddling the boy then," Jorab thought with newfound resolve, "I will teach the boy to strong, I will fulfill that promise." Turning towards his chest, Jorab left the window began to prepare.

"Well it looks like that's everything," Aedan thought as the sweat dripped from his face, "I guess I should see if father is alright, he has never slept in so late."

Still brushing the horses in the barn, Aedan heard the door creak.

"Looks like your finally up father, guess that old age is finally catching up to you," he joked, not bothering to turn around, "By the way, I am done with all of my chores, can I head back up to Sentinel Hill?"

"No, I am afraid you won't be going anywhere today son," Jorab's voice replied, tone dead serious, "We have work to do."

Aedan, disappointed at the news, turned around and froze, shocked to see his father wearing full plated armor and hoisting a large claymore over his soldiers.


	3. What It Means To Be A Warrior

**Chapter 3: What It Means To Be a Warrior**

"Come on, move faster, Aedan. I would have killed you three times already," Jorab exclaimed as he brought his sword upon him again. Aedan collapsed the shear force of the blow.

"We've been at it for hours," Aedan complained, "Can we take a short break?"

Jorab raced up to Aedan and grabbed him by the collar. "No there are no breaks Aedan," he hissed, "You wanted to be stronger, to carve a name for yourself, then show me that resolve of yours. Attack!"

Enraged by his condescension, Aedan lunged forward with his practice sword. Jorab was unprepared for a sudden strike, barely parrying the first lunge, but quickly regaining control of the field and dealing a brutal slash at his legs. Aedan tumbled as Jorab spun back around and smashed the hilt of his own practice sword into Aedan's face. Blood oozed from Aedan's nose as he pulled himself out of the dirt. Looking at his bruised and battered body, Jorab felt a slight tug of guilt.

"Go wash up, we are done for the day," Jorab said as he slowly turned back towards the house.

"No," Aedan roared! "I am fine, lets keep going. You will not break me that easily old man."

A smile tugged at Jorab's lip as he turned back towards his son, already in a battle stance.

"Very well then," Jorab replied as he charged, "Prepare yourself!"

Weeks passed by in this same manner. Every morning it became the same routine. First the basic chores around the farm and by noon, sword training. It was not long before Aedan was beginning to prove himself as a decent challenge against Jorab's onslaught. But swords was not the only thing Jorab had been teaching Aedan, he was showing him how to harness the true power of a warrior.

"Aedan, what gives a warrior his strength," Jorab asked as they sat drinking some cooling water.

"What do you mean father," Aedan replied, "Isn't it simply physical strength?"

"Well you would be right in that regard if you simply wanted to be a swordsman, Jorab answered, "But a swordsman isn't a warrior. Tell me, what is it that gives mages their power?"

"Don't they gain their power from the ley-lines that course through the world," Aedan replied, having read quite a few books on magic as a child, the subject had always fascinated him.

"You are correct, they channel this power through themselves in a energy called mana," Jorab responded, "But then tell me, how did I do this. Watch closely."

Jorab approached one of the man-sized training dummies they set up, holding his practice sword, his eyes closed in concentration. His body glowed a faint red tint and in one swift movement, he swung his blade with all this might, severing the dummy in half.

Power practically radiating off of him as he walked back towards Aedan, who was shocked to say the least.

"How did you do that father, that glow, are you a mage" Aedan asked, his face demanding answers.

"No son, that was the power that true warriors harness," Jorab replied, "That is the power known as rage."

"What do you mean rage," Aedan countered, "You mean anger gives you that power?"

"Partially", Jorab explained, "All living creatures have the ability to access the ley-lines of our world. Those who can harness mana in its purest form have the talent to become mages, healers, or even shamans like the orcs. Warriors do not use raw mana to perform their abilities, we use a combination of physical energy and magical energy that is formed when we concentrate on powerful emotions. Rage is simply one emotion that can possible bring out this power. Hatred, jealousy, righteous anger, frustration, and even love are all powerful catalysts that generate the power of rage."

Aedan was speechless as he took in this vast amount of information. His very emotions were the fuel that made warriors so powerful.

Jorab further explained that rage not only allowed warriors to do extraordinary feats, but can be channeled to enhance speed, strength, or even stamina itself. The power was theoretically limitless as well, only the willpower of the user could limit it.

"So I will teach you to use this power, but I am not even sure you can. Very few warriors can harness the full potential of rage. I guess we will find out if you have what it takes," Jorab said, standing up.

"How will we do that father," Aedan asked.

Jorab walked a short distance and picked up a rock no bigger than Aedan's fist and plopped it down in his hands.

"Simple. I want you to crush this rock," Jorab casually replied.

"What! You want me to try and break this rock," Aedan exclaimed skeptically.

"No, I want you to shatter it into a million pieces," Jorab replied, walking back towards the house, "Focus on a memory, the one that fills you with the most emotion possible. Let the emotion consume you. Once you feel the build up, release it all at once. Also there will be no dinner until that rock is shattered."

Aedan sat there squeezing the rock for what felt like hours, but nothing happened. There was no red glow, or any feeling of empowerment, there was nothing. Frustrated at this ridiculousness of the concept, Aedan threw the rock a few feet before walking over to retrieve it, exasperated.

"Ok Aedan, you can do this, just focus on a memory," Aedan thought, calming himself, "But which one should I use?"

Aedan sat there pondering his life. He thought of his anger every time Jorab denied him that chance to travel to Elwynn Forest with him or when he was older, to join the Alliance army. He thought of the frustration and jealously he hid behind a smile as he watched Galin leave for Northshire Abbey. Finally something occurred to him.

"_Aedan," Jorab called from the bottom of the stairs, "Come down here, there is something I need to show you."_

"_Yes father," the ten year old Aedan replied as he scurried down the stairs._

"_Come and sit here son, there is much to talk about," Jorab said, a serious expression on his face._

"_What is it father," Aedan asked, curious._

"_Aedan I should have told you about your birth a long time ago. This discussion is long overdue," Jorab said, but just couldn't find the words, "Aedan…."_

"_Father, what's wrong, is everything alright," Aedan asked, his bright blue eyes beaming right into Jorab's soul._

"_Son, I am not you birth father," Jorab blurted out._

_Tears brimmed around Aedan's eyes as he sputtered, "What do you mean, your not my father? Mother wasn't killed by bandits. But her grave is just outside, where are my real parents," Aedan shouted, his sadness turning to anger._

"_No, no, Aedan, please let me explain," Jorab said, quickly trying to calm the boy._

_Jorab told Aedan the story of how he found his mother on the side of the road, exhausted and near death. Finally, he pulled out the locket she left for him and put it into his hand. Aedan slowly sobbed as he gripped the gold locket, the crest of a 'L' shining on the top._

"_So I am a bastard? I have no father and I killed my own mother in childbirth. Is that what your saying," his voice barely above a whisper._

"_Don't be ridiculous Aedan," Jorab quickly replied, his eyes resilient but warm, "You are my son, I don't care if I didn't sire you, I love you as my own and so you are."_

_Aedan sobbing stopped as he heard Jorab's declaration. Jorab pulled Aedan into a tight hug. _

"_Aedan, never forget, you are my son. And for what its worth, I know your mother loved you just as I do," Jorab said, a tear of his own falling on his cheek._

A single tear fell from Aedan's eyes as he reveled in the memory. His hand grasped the locket around his neck and he love he felt for his father and mother consume it. Jorab looked from the window of the house and smiled as he watched his son glow the red hue. Aedan could feel the power throughout his body, making him feel invincible. Gripping that blasted rock once more, Aedan released all of his emotion and strength into the rock. Even to Jorab's surprise, the rock didn't just shatter, it exploded like a grenade out in all directions.

"Aedan," Jorab called from the house, "I guess you aren't a total failure as a warrior, now get inside. We got steaks for tonight."

It had been a week since Aedan had unlocked the power of rage. His progression was astounding to Jorab, his aptitude for harnessing rage far surpassed his own he had to admit. However Aedan still couldn't beat Jorab in a duel, for what Jorab lacked in talent, he had spades of in experience.

"Looks like your improving," Jorab jabbed as he parried Aedan's broadsword to the side, "At this rate, maybe you will be able to keep up when you're my age."

"Just keep talking old man," Aedan said as they danced about the field with their blades, "One day I'll wipe that smirk clean off your face."

Aedan began channeling rage into his arms to increase the speed and strength of his swings until Jorab began having trouble parrying them all away. Excitement filled Aedan as he nearly broke Jorab's stance.

"I have you now father," Aedan shouted as he brought his blade down over his head pushing Jorab onto one knee, "Yield!"

"Don't think you have beaten me quite yet, brat," Jorab said, the smirk still evident on his face.

Jorab suddenly stomped his feet into the ground, emitting a large radius of electricity which stunned Aedan in his place. Aedan shouted as he felt himself temporarily paralyzed giving Jorab amble time to roll away. The duel continued for just a short while. Every swing Aedan took with this blade felt slower than the last, his speed rapidly decreasing. Finally, Jorab slide to Aedan's side and elbowed him in the gut. With the wind knocked out of him, Aedan collapsed, soundly defeated.

"That was a dirty trick, old man," Aedan said, panting and wiping the sweat off of his blonde hair.

"All is fair in love and war," Jorab quipped as he pulled Aedan to his feet, "Remember that son."

"So…are you going to show me that technique," Aedan asked as they walked back to the farmhouse.

It had been six months since they had begun training, six months of broken bones, bruises, and possible internal bleeding. Aedan rose early that morning, the morning he turned seventeen, to get his chores done early. The sun barely in the sky by the time he was strapping on his leather armor. Today was his final test, he would fight his father in a duel with real swords and should he be victorious, Jorab would give his blessing to leave the farmstead. Eating a hearty breakfast, Aedan reviewed his lessons through his head, unable to relax before the duel.

"Thunderclap, channel rage into your feet and release with sudden force. Whirlwind, focus your rage on the edge of your sword and let it lead you. How do you regenerate again? Never got that one down," Aedan thought, anxiously sitting at the table.

After eating, Aedan walked outside into the field and looked upon his home. Harvest would be in a few weeks, and if all went well, for once Jorab would be doing all the hard work.

"Its hard to believe my time here is almost over," Aedan contemplated, "I wonder if this is how Galin felt before he left."

It was almost a hour before Aedan heard Jorab shout behind him.

"Are you prepared for this boy," Jorab asked, "I won't hold back this time. I need someone to clean out the barns."

"Not this time old man," Aedan replied, determination in his eyes, "Today, I put behind the farmer and embrace the warrior."

"Good," Jorab replied as he tossed Aedan a claymore sword of his own.

Aedan admired the blade as it shined in the sun, it had to of been recently forged.

"I asked Gryan to have one of those made for you," Jorab said, stirring Aedan from his thoughts, "Should you beat me today, Gryan agreed to help you get started. Now lets get started!"

Jorab disappeared in a blur as he charged forwards. Aedan's eyes could barely keep up as he saw Jorab's blade appear aiming at his sides. Quickly side stepping and parrying the blade, Aedan returned with rage-enhanced strike of his own pushing Jorab back across the dirt. Jorab smirked as he dash forwards raising a leg to strike the ground. Anticipating the thunderclap, Aedan jumped into the air and slashed at Jorab's arms.

"Argg," Jorab yelled as Aedan's sword drew blood from his forearm, "Not bad boy, but believe me, this duel has only begun."

"I can't believe he charged and tried to thunderclap me so early, he must of tried to finish it fast," Aedan thought, "Those techniques require a large amount of rage, so he must be a bit winded."

Quickly stirring himself from his thoughts, Aedan charged with enhanced speed at Jorab's back swinging his blade at his lower back. Jorab turned just in time and parried the slash, but returned with a punch from his metal gauntlet. Unphased by the unexpected strike, Aedan rapidly struck again.

Blows were exchanged again, both warriors using their rage to increase their strength. Blow matched blow, parry matched parry, the duel appeared to be in a stalemate until Jorab raised his blade for an overhead strike. Aedan grabbed the hilt of Jorab's blade and kicked him back a few feet away.

"Looks like I taught you well Aedan," Jorab said, panting, "It is nice to see that all my teachings did not go to waste. But I am not done yet, you have yet to see my trump card."

A red glow surrounded Jorab as he channeled his rage throughout his body. This glow, however, was not the faint glow that warriors typically emitted, this aura was pure crimson. Suddenly, four crimson blades appeared surrounding Jorab, circling slowly in a ominous cycle.

"If I am going to win this," Jorab thought, "I need to do it now, this technique drains most of my stamina and will only last one minute."

Aedan, cautious of the blades, but seeing the exhaustion in Jorab's face, charged forward slashing his blade only to be parried by Jorab. Suddenly, however, Aedan felt a second blow upon his blade. Confused, Aedan responded with another attack, only to feel twice the force upon him again. Jorab smiled and began to press the attack. His technique he called "retaliation" was the perfect balanced maneuver. For every strike Aedan made, Jorab could parry and attack a second time. The technique not only enhanced his speed, but also his reflexes. Aedan slowly began to crumble beneath the technique, barely parrying all the blows. Finally with the last few seconds remaining before the technique wore off, Jorab slashed Aedan diagonally across the chest and once down the back, lightly enough to leave only two light wounds.

Aedan collapsed onto one knee, blood oozing down his body, barely able support himself on his own blade. Jorab too felt the exhaustion hitting him and nearly collapsed, but managed to remain standing.

"Its over son," Jorab said, "Maybe next year will be your time."

"No father," Aedan's whisper turning into a shout, "Its not over. You once asked me to show you my resolve. Well here it is!"

With the last of his strength Aedan raised his claymore and threw it with all his might at Jorab. Not expecting the surprise attack, Jorab barely managed to dodge to the side. His eyes distracted by the soaring blade, Jorab could only scarcely see as Aedan charged him. With one final act, Aedan jumped and drop-kicked Jorab in the stomach releasing the last of his rage in a thunderclap. Jorab could barely scream as the electricity coursed through his body, paralyzing every muscle.

As both father and son collapsed, Jorab could barely whisper, "My son, you are a true warrior."


End file.
